For Honor: One-shots and Short Stories Collection
by Mister Cydonia
Summary: Series of one-shots / short stories based around various themes about For Honor.
1. Forced Evolution: Apollyon

Hunger.

Hunger was the sole reason why the Vikings geared their hatred against the other factions. They were hungry. The raging fires and little food stashes set by Apollyon sent the Vikings vying against each other in a blind fury. Soon, the warriors of Valkenheim ran out of accessible food in their homeland. They turned against the other factions as ways to live.

It made sense. People will do anything to survive, and it was this fact of life that brought Apollyon into her infamous mindset. Even her mindset and reason for fighting, which was to separate the wolves from the sheep, was loosely centered around this basic survival instinct of the necessity of food.

Wolves. They ate the sheep to survive. The sheep couldn't fight back, they could only run. It was this fact of life that kept the human race evolving. In order to change, you had to force it to. People weren't going to change out of free will. You had to force it upon people. If the petty men and women from any of these factions could choose for themselves, the human race as a whole would be stuck in an endless era of stagnation. Apollyon knew this all too well.

Apollyon, though, wasn't a wolf, nor was she a sheep. In her mind, she was a god. She was the one pulling the strings. She was the one in full control, not the petty emperor of the Myre, nor the jarls of Valkenheim, nor the warlords of Ashfeld. Apollyon was.

It all returned back to the prospect of food. Instead of fighting for religion, for land, or for wealth, it was now the fight for survival. The fight for food. And what caused this willingness to survive? Apollyon. She had forced the Vikings' hands down, causing them to evolve from complacent men and women comfortable with the way things were into reared warriors ready for anything.

Forced Evolution is what Apollyon called this mindset. Force them a reason to, and they will evolve into something new, something better. So far, this way of life worked on everyone she encountered. Why should it fail now?

In her twisted mind, Apollyon believed that she was doing this out of compassion. A compassion that showed the factions their idiotic complacency, causing them to change; some for the better, some for the worse. It was true though, she was getting results from Forced Evolution. Results that satisfied her. Results that made her want to get the same from others who weren't quite as eager to change.

Forced Evolution wasn't the only thing that Apollyon hoped to force upon the rest of the factions. She wanted to thin the numbers. She wanted to destroy those resistant to change so that she could change those that were left more easily and with more control. If she could remove those inimical to her ideals, then the next stage of evolution should come much more easily.

Regardless of her mindset of Forced Evolution, Apollyon was a force to be reckoned with. Those who crossed her path were, through torture, given a chance to accept this Forced Evolution. Those who did were allowed to live. Those who didn't, however, weren't allowed the gift of a quick, painless death. Instead, they were starved, beaten, dismembered, raped, dismembered, cut, and then killed. Those who saw the horrors that the twisted Apollyon would commit against the people who refused were quickly accepted Forced Evolution. Not all who did accept were still allowed to live though. They still had to confess for their crimes against the law. Lucky for them, they were allowed a quick, painless beheading.

And Apollyon would laugh as those who opposed her were killed mercilessly. And Apollyon would laugh from the throne as she watched as her Forced Evolution reverberated throughout the three factions. And Apollyon would laugh as she watched the Vikings war against themselves in a hungry rage. And Apollyon would laugh as her doctrine was forcefully accepted by people of all cultures and backgrounds. And Apollyon would laugh as she was on the path to take control.

* * *

 **A/N: This was just a short one-shot / character study that I had wanted to do. It is a look at, or at least what I think, goes on in Apollyon, focusing on her mindset.**

 **I may make this a series. A series consisting of one-shots about the different characters and heroes of For Honor. If you want me to, let me know so I can see if there's time in the schedule.**

 **Anyway, onto information about other stories. I'm about a sixth done with the next chapter of Wishful Few. I'm still debating about whether or not I should go where I wanted to with the story.**

 **The progress on Dirty Deeds chapter two is going well. Here's a little snippet for all those who care:**

" _ **...this specific droid had created his own kind of memories, personality, and experience. He valued those things higher than any other things he had. In complete honesty, he probably valued those things more than any other "sentient" being valued their own. To him, it was something personal, as he programmed personality, memory, and experience into his "mind." Others took it for granted. This was one thing he hated about every evolved creature: they took everything for granted, expecting everything was theirs..."**_

 **Anyway, happy reading!**


	2. The Cataclysm: Prelude to the Great War

Religion. To some people, it was an important part of their lives. Some of these lives even revolved completely around it, such as priests, monks, and bishops. To some others, they saw it as a hassle. They would go every Sabbath day to fulfill what they saw as a duty. And to some other people, it was a scam. They didn't believe anything that these men on the raised platforms were screaming.

Whatever it is that they believed about religion, it was a huge portion of the times, especially after the Great Cataclysm. After the event, many turned to religious figures, believing that it was a sign from whichever god they believed in. Whether that sign be a good thing to some, such as vanquishing their enemies, or be a bad thing.

After the Great Cataclysm, religion became more widespread than it was before. People were searching for answers. They needed answers. For most, however, those answers did not come through religion. And when those answers didn't come through the gods, the people turned to superstitions, such as magic, astrology, and even witchcraft or black magic.

The Samurai turned to the witches of the Myre's thick, wet swamps. The Vikings turned to the shamans of the snowy Valkenheim forests. The Knights turned to the stars. Each of the factions had their own coping mechanisms, each one failing just as the others:

 _ **The Vikings**_ —Thinking that they had the superior mechanism for finding out the truth about the Great Cataclysm, the Vikings turned made shamans speak to the spirit world. When this yielded either a fake answer or no answer, they grew frustrated and turned to sacrificial believed that they needed to skip the middleman and go straight to their gods. And to no surprise, this also failed.

 _ **The Samurai**_ —These warriors of the Orient looked to the witches for answers. All of these magicians came to the conclusion that the gods were angry at them. Seeking repentance, many of the Samurai turned to penance. Punishing themselves for things that they did not know were wrong, they tried to appease the gods. Because of the lack of a second cataclysm, many believed that they found the true path to salvation.

 _ **The Knights**_ —Taking a different approach than the other factions, the Knights sought their own kind of answers. Rather than going to the spiritual world, they looked to the stars. They turned to the the astrologers to give them answers. After none of their "research" turned to be truth, the Knights concluded that it must've been a random event. But that did not satisfy their search for answers. When superstitions did not come up with true answers, they turned to science.

And in the same space of time of the search for answers, the Great War began to lay foundations for a long, hard age of war. The Knights claimed Ashfeld as their homeland, but land and food had become scarce shortly after the Great Cataclysm. This forced them to start to expand in the north—in Valkenheim. Unbeknownst to the Knights, the Vikings reclaimed their fallen homeland. In response to the expansion of Ashfeld, they retaliated and fought back as much as they could, driving the battle from Valkenheim and into Ashfeld.

At the same time, the Samurai from the Orient had travelled west shortly after the Great Cataclysm. Finding the Myre, they sent word back to their homeland only to receive news that it had fallen into the sea. Believing that this was a sign from their gods that this was their land to keep, the Samurai staked claim to the marshy swamps that the Myre offered.

After hearing of the war between the Knights and Vikings, they decided that it would be best to keep a neutral side in the war. This neutrality, however, did not last for very long, as the Vikings and Knights started claiming land from the Myre to help turn the tide of the war. In response to this, the Samurai entered the fray to protect their homeland and its people.

And then there began a millennium of conflict. After decades and decades of relentless warring, no victor seemed to be emerging. It seemed as though the war had transitioned into a stalemate. Soon after, the Vikings' raids upon the Myre and Ashfeld mysteriously stopped, allowing the Knights to push them out of Ashfeld and the Samurai pushing the Vikings and Knights out of the Myre. When the Knights and Vikings stopped their attacks upon the Myre, the Samurai did the same with Valkenheim and Ashfeld. And so began an age of peace.

This age of peace only lasted for a short time though. When the Viking raids began again, the once powerful Samurai and Knights had become weak from the age of peace. In addition, the Vikings were no longer regarded as powerful and ferocious as they once were. Dissatisfied with this result, a certain Warden, Apollyon, and her Blackstone Legion sought to restore the three factions to their once ferocious state. And how would she do this? By renewing the Great War.

Firstly, Apollyon had gathered allies. Uniting the powerful Iron Legion with her ferocious Blackstone Legion had allowed her to control a large, powerful force that would crush any who got in her way. Travelling into Valkenheim, the Blackstone Legion attacked and conquered much of the land, burning all but a small portion of the food that the snowy lands had. Leaving barely enough food that the Vikings could sustain some raids, Stigandr united the Vikings, leading the Great Raid against the Samurai.

Meanwhile, the Blackstone Legion marched into the Myre and killed the current Emperor of the Samurai. Whilst they were fighting amongst each other, Ayu was able to defeat the other Daimyo and become the new Empress of the Samurai. Uniting the Samurai, they attacked the Blackstone Legion, finally putting an end to Apollyon.

However, it was too late. Her work was already done. The three factions had come together in Ashfeld with aggression and hate for one another. There was no possible way that this could've ended any differently. With their swords raised high, the armies clashed.

The Great War was reborn.

* * *

 **A/N: So… it turns out that I have a lot of ideas for these one-shots. This one, however, was basically just a retelling of the story campaign, but I'm sure that I'll introduce more characters later on so that'll be fun. Don't worry, this will** **not** **replace either of my other stories. This'll just be something that I update when I feel like it, so probably often because I have a lot of fun writing these.**

 **Anyway, there is a poll on my profile, asking which of my stories you mostly read. If you have some time, why not check it out?**

 **As always, I hope that you all enjoyed this story.**


	3. The Great Winter: Our Inner Wolves

It was a cold night across Ashfeld, Valkenheim, and the Myre. The freezing winter winds swept across the lands, bringing a shiver to all the men and women. The people stayed in the indoors, trying to keep warm. To most of the people in any faction, however, thin wooden walls didn't keep much of the cold out. Inside the lands of the Samurai, Knights, and Vikings, men and women died from the cold. Each of the factions dealt with this "Great Winter"—as some called it—differently.

Perhaps Ashfeld and its people got it the worst. Its land and people were unprepared for the harsh winters that brought along the heavy snow and extreme cold. Its usual sunny, hot days were replaced with a terrible winter that left many, many people without a safe place to sleep. Along with this winter, hypothermia had greatly affected the people of Ashfeld. Those who were caught out in the street or in the small cottages that dotted the outskirts had suffered from the killing, freezing temperatures. The only ones who stayed warm and comfortable in Ashfeld were the warlords and rich nobles. Often, these men closed the gates to the dying people in the fields.

Then there were the Samurai in their land called the Myre. Again, the cold winds had assaulted the jungles inside the Samurai's territories. As opposed to the Knights of Ashfeld, however, the Emperor opened the Imperial City's gates to the people, filling the ornate halls and rooms with poor, unprepared people quickly. The amount of people rushing in quickly became too overwhelming, however, so the Emperor was forced to shut the gates, much to the disdain from the people trapped outside. Outside the walls, many Samurai died from the extreme hypothermia.

The Vikings of Valkenheim thought they were prepared for the winter, as they had lived in a winter since they were born. However, they quickly realized that this was not the case. The already cold climate of Valkenheim grew colder; the barbaric Vikings grew more barbaric, for their thirst for survival drove them forward in a violent frenzy; the animals that lived in the area became more sparse, as they were dying from the freezing temperatures. Their armor—or lack thereof—caused many to be killed within the first week, as they were caught out in the cold temperatures. Only the wealthiest Vikings stayed relatively warm. Their greed, however, caused them to close their gates to the dying men and women outside. They would occasionally make raids against other clans or villages if their supplies started to diminish, but they stayed inside their stone walls for the most part.

Across the three factions, men and women, warlords and villagers, warriors and peasants, and adolescents and adults fought each other in their crazed attempts to survive the killing winter. Some thought of the Great Winter as a "sign" from the gods to further their greedy goals; others thought of it as a perfect time to extend their reach of power; contrary to those perspectives, other people saw this Great Winter as a perfect time to bring the three factions closer together, united in peace. Whatever they saw this event as, these people from across these factions did different things to deal with this situation: some being remarkable and honorable, whilst others were shameful and violent.

It was during this Great Winter that the true wolf inside has come out through the sheep's clothing.

* * *

 **A/N: So… I had previously posted this story as a prologue to a cancelled story I was going to do. However, I wasn't able to do so, and I scratched it. I was looking back at some old files that I had and found this. I liked the concept so I just decided to post it here as a single chapter story.**

 **Also, there is a poll on my profile that asks which of my stories you mostly read. I want to know which are the most popular, so if you have some spare time, why don't you check that out?**

 **Anyway, I hope that you all enjoyed.**


	4. Seven Years After: A Pursuit for Peace

**Seven years after the death of Apollyon**

* * *

The fall of Apollyon had ripple effects throughout the entirety of all three factions. In some places, peace prospered and in others war rampant. Apollyon's plan of war inside and out succeeded even after her death. What she couldn't foresee, however, was that, though the factions held grudges against each other, they determined that, if they were to survive, they'd have to make a pact.

In the walls of the former Blackstone Fortress, Holden Cross of the Iron Legion, Empress Ayu of the Chosen, and Jarl Stigandr of the Warborn all met in the dimly lit rooms. They met here to discuss the matters of war that had carried on since the death of Apollyon. Seven years after that great event, these two men and one woman sought what many others were afraid of: change―change from the way things were.

"And you know the rest." Ayu said as she finished telling her side of the story. Looking at the two men in the room, she sighed. Holden Cross sat in the wooden chair, watching her as she spoke. On the contrary, Stigandr leaned against the stone border of a window, his hand clenched in a tight fist. He was angry. Angry that he didn't see what Apollyon had wanted. He was angry that he was blinded by the prospect of war, food, and wealth―all things that the Vikings admired and lusted after.

"Seven more years of bloody war." Cross said as he stood from the chair. The former Blackstone legionnaire's voice held much guilt and regret in it. Obviously devastated that he helped the warlord achieve her goals, the Lawbringer clenched his hands.

"Apollyon played us all. One against the other. And for what?" Stigandr said angrily as he pushed away from the window to look at the other two in the room. His brows furrowing at Cross, the Jarl crossed his arms, not expecting an answer.

"To weed out the weak." Cross answered the question. His eyes took in the sight of the two great warriors. Stigandr's grizzled face stared down at the former Blackstone. His large beard shifting as his mouth formed a frown, the Warlord crossed his arms and took a step closer to the man.

"Why did you call us here Cross?" The Kensei's strong voice commanded the attention of the two men in the room. Ayu's hardened face stared at the Lawbringer as she crossed her arms. She went through much. Even though she had every right to deny telling the Lord Warden her story throughout the war with Apollyon, she believed that honesty was the only way that these three factions could finally have peace.

"I didn't. I was sent here by the new Lord Warden to make amends." Cross denied. In the night, Stigandr threw a fist, sending the Lawbringer to the floor. Taking his sword from the stone table, he pointed it at Cross's neck. Half-expecting to be hit in this conference, the former Blackstone crawled back towards the wall and started to get up.

"HOW DARE YOU?! THOUSANDS OF MY PEOPLE ARE DEAD!" The Jarl roared, his voice echoing in the otherwise silent halls. Stigandr was angry at Cross. More specifically, he was angry at the legion Cross used to belong. Realizing his actions would result in possibly more war if he continued through with them, he stepped back and took a deep breath. Pointing the sword to the ground, he leaned on it, muttering a curse under his breath.

"Well, here's your chance at vengeance." Cross told him. Stigandr looked at him and shook his head, muttering something along the lines of 'it is too late.' Looking to the Lawbringer, he leaned the sword against the wall. Walking to the Iron legionnaire, he helped the man up and apologized quietly―albeit quietly.

"We shared our stories like your lord Warden requested. Now, why are we here?" Ayu sensed the tension in the room. Saying these words, she altered the conversation's course to return to what its intention was: finding a way that leads to peace. Expecting a long, convoluted answer, Cross hadn't fulfilled her expectations.

"Peace." The seemingly simple answer was short and directly to the point. The more Ayu thought of the word, the more she was confused on what Cross had meant. Crossing her arms, she raised her eyebrow. The most obvious answer was that the three factions were to cease all military activity against one another immediately. Obviously, Ayu had some concerns for this idea, such as what would happen if one of the other factions attacked? The Samurais would not be prepared, for they had ceased military activity.

"Peace?" Ayu asked, her voice still a confident leader's voice. Looking to the Samurai, Cross nodded. In response, she only sighed. _If this is even possible._ The Kensei thought. _It's very unlikely that all the men and women throughout the three factions will follow. The only way that this can work is if we have a written agreement which says not to condone the actions of our people if it's an act of war._

"Even if it were possible, we're not peacemakers." Stigandr said, his voice solemn and low. Looking to his comrades-to-be, the Warlord sighed. The worst thought was that, if this truce didn't work, he would look like a weak leader. And if he were looked as if he was weak, Stigandr would no longer be able to control his people. If he didn't accept the truce, however, it would look as if he didn't want peace throughout the three factions. He was stuck in a corner of having to choose the lesser of two evils.

"Is it an unworthy goal?" Ayu asked the Viking, looking him up and down. Concerned with Stigandr's motives, she half wanted him out of the truce between her and Cross, for she didn't trust the Vikings after their invasion on Imperial City.

"Well… no." The Warlord stuttered. Looking out the window, he sighed. His doubts started to get to him, but he had no choice but to comply. Looking back to the Lawbringer and Kensei, he frowned. "Is this how it starts?"

"It would have to start with us." Ayu told the Viking. Stigandr was an extremely good Warlord and fight, but negotiating wasn't his strong suit. To Ayu, he was too doubtful with himself and his eloquence. The fact that he was this doubtful when it came to speaking forced him to be worse than what he could be.

"We will die in this attempt. You know that." Cross stated factually as he stood from his seated position. Crossing his arms as he looked at the other two leaders, the Lawbringer sighed. It's not that he wasn't ready to die, for he was, but Cross believed in redemption before death. Like many other men in the three factions, he wanted die without having committing too many heinous acts.

"Perhaps." Stigandr said solemnly. Just a second after, Stigandr turned to the two with a large grin plastered on his face. "But it would make a worthy tale."

And it was on this night that, since the reign of Apollyon, the world had seen an attempt at peace.


	5. Mortality: We Are Only Human After All

_We Are Only Human After All_

* * *

Ozymandias was awestruck as he watched the sea of red flow towards. Blood, it seemed, flowed like an ocean, crashing and staining the walls and structures it came in contact with. Although it seemed like something biblical was happening, it seemed too impossible for something supernatural. Even God himself couldn't have done this, for this… this was true horror. Only the Devil could do something to this much of a scale.

Regardless, fear and panic enveloped the area as it came closer. Ozymandias turned from the balcony and rushed into the small room, yelling for the others of the fortress to brace for impact. Strangely, he didn't hear any response, and he remained in complete silence, save for the crashing sound of the waves of blood. His heart beating, Ozymandias ran through the empty halls. It seemed that everyone had abandoned him and the stronghold.

Ozymandias ran through each of the decrepit halls, although he knew that there was no chance for him. He knew that his former legion cared not for him, nor did they care for his life. Yelling for help, he could feel tears fill the corners of his eyes, and he knew that the end was right here, right now. There was nothing he could do about it. After all, he was just a mere mortal with no right to life in the eyes of God.

Ozymandias was not a godly person by any means, though he must've prayed at least forty times during this crisis. He prayed that he could leave with his life, although he sometimes thought that perhaps it would be best if he were to die here. Nonetheless, nobody wants to lose their life, and Ozymandias was definitely part of that population. He made so many mistakes that even he wondered if his life was worth living. Then again, he was only human after all.

Ozymandias—Centurion and warrior for Blackstone Legion—was going to die here, and it was almost certain. Then again, as he finished his runs throughout the small stronghold, he made his way back out to the wooden balcony. The red wave seemed to be coming at a faster rate. The sounds of crashing grew louder and louder as the view of red grew larger and larger. Taking his shortsword, Ozymandias stabbed it into the ground and got onto his knees.

 _Dear Lord_. He whispered to himself. _Take me into thine hands and do what thou wish to do with me, for I am thine in this moment. Take my life if it be so, but be kind and let me take it. Without honor, I am destined for deepest pits of Hell, but with honor, may I enter through the pearly gates of Heaven. And say to me, 'Thou art honorable, my servant.'_

Ozymandias wept then, and it was indeed the last time he ever did, for he had died that very day. However, he did not die to the red wave; instead, he died to his own hand. With tears and cries to the highest of Heavens, he took the blade and swept it swiftly against his throat, releasing his own blood against the wooden deck of the balcony.

And Ozymandias was no more.


	6. That Midnight Hour: The Sound of Silence

_**That Midnight Hour: The Sound of Silence**_

* * *

It was a relatively silent night across all of Ashfeld, the only sounds coming from the cackling torches that lined the walls of the stronghold. A cool breeze flowing through the already cold halls made many shiver in their sleep. Inside these four walls that rose high into the midnight sky, a young woman—who had been that of maybe her early thirties—sat at a desk, scribbling down on a piece of paper. A candle stood atop the right corner of the wooden desk, a pot of ink just above the paper, and a medallion lazily thrown to the left. This medallion, which was covered in a volley of blood stains, was one that was important to the woman, for it held something important to her: an oath and a declaration of honor and loyalty.

" _Among the many things that I regret, there is only one thing that I stands out in my mind when reflecting upon my life, but I cannot come to terms with this thing that I have done."_

The woman sighed as her fingers tensed around the quill. She had been sitting there for perhaps an hour or two writing a letter to her family. The words, written darkly in a deepened black ink that originated from the most expensive of merchants, held deep meaning to her, and with every word and letter that she wrote, her heart ached greatly, for she had been missing that which meant most to her. With each passing moment, a broken heart grew more and more shattered. Tears filled her eyes as she wept quietly at that desk in the middle of the night.

" _I know that to show emotion is not to be shown weak, yet I feel as if it is the opposite, for I am emotionally weak, physically weak, and spiritually weak."_

The endless of void of silence seemed to be all-consuming. Although everything outside was quiet, the woman's innards were anything but. Emotions cried out in her heart, painful thoughts screamed in her minds, and sorrowful regrets tugged heavily on her heartstrings. And when everything seemed to be settling in her mind, there he was—the Devil on her shoulder—to disturb the waters, causing ripples in the cold lake of serenity.

" _Concerning what I have done, I cannot forgive myself, for I know that this it is a true evil: my actions that is."_

Although it could be said that this woman was being over-dramatic, it couldn't be said that it wasn't for rhyme or reason. Failure was a common reason for the uncommon reason of becoming distraught. Uncommon because, especially in this damned world, failure could sometimes be a synonym for death. However, death could also be called a synonym for release, as for many death meant a release of pain. This release of pain is what many fought for, although few admitted or even realized it. Death was the only sweet, sweet release of the pains of life.

" _I must admit that I wish for a different path or ending than I have received, but I know that it is the one that I am destined to be on forevermore."_

If this woman admitted this deed to anyone, perhaps she would still be alive today. She hadn't, though, and this was the cause of death: A secret that had been kept inside for too long. This secret ate away at her innards, destroying her from the inside. It was too late by the time she set the pen against the paper in that midnight hour. She was already gone days before, but she hadn't acknowledged it yet. This woman, although broken and shattered, was brave simply for the fact that she attempted to seek help.

" _I must admit that I am not proud of all the things I have done, for all those children, men, and women that I have caused strife upon are now doing the same to me."_

And it could be said that she wasn't the only broken thing in that room. Going back to the aforementioned medallion, that was also broken. That medallion was the infamous Warden's Medallion. Engraved on one of the brushed sides, a bloodied sword piercing the earth showed with a cloth wrapped around the hilt that was blowing in the wind, showing that true Wardens fought to and through death for their cause. On the reverse side, the Warden's Oath was printed, and it was a constant reminder to the bearer of the medallion that the Wardens fought for a just, honorable cause, not one for war or wealth like many others.

" _Broken are the oaths, the dreams, and the hopes of my younger self, for I have broken them; however, it is unknown to me if they have been broken intentionally, but I hope this is not the case."_

In that midnight hour, this woman decided to end her seemingly hollow, empty husk that had been called life. Taking the sharpened dagger that rested upon the table, she squeezed her hand around the blade until blood dripped down. The blood stained itself upon the letter, intertwining itself with the black, inky words. The woman did not scream or even wince at the physical pain, for she had become used to it, especially when contrasted to emotional pain.

" _Perhaps I shall see you in the afterlife if there is such a thing, but I cannot guarantee you that I will see you again in this life, for it is highly unlikely that we shall escape it fairly."_

The woman then wrote down the last few words upon the piece of paper.

" _Sincerely,"_

With a tear exiting her eye one last time, she took the blade and pierced her stomach's flesh before pulling across, creating a long tear across her abdomen. Not even wincing in pain, she pushed inward, almost certainly piercing her body's imperative innards. Suddenly, then pain filled her body, forcing her voice to pierce the sound of silence, creating an impressive, loud scream that echoed across seemingly all three lands: Valkenheim, the Myre, and certainly Ashfeld.

" _Apollyon_ — _Warlord of the Blackstone Legion and the true Harbinger of the Apocalypse."_

The woman slumped back into her chair, breathing heavily as she let the sweet embrace of death carry away. And at the wooden desk is where her body would lay until it was found in the earliest morning.


	7. A Bloody Religion: Forgive Me

_**Forgive Me**_

* * *

A cool breeze sauntered its way through the land of Ashfeld as an approaching storm clambered through the region, crying tears of cold raindrops that would soon form themselves into shallow puddles. It was in the dead of December, and rain was a reliably common aspect in this period of time. The cold liquid fell from the heavens onto the stone fortress that sat silently in the mountainous region, creating pools of muddy water in the dirty courtyard. The fortress's thick stone walls were infected by a strong vine that grew into the cracks and crannies of the bricks. Yet, they stood strong and tall, not faltering to the dull green plant. The walls encompassed a large area of a valley between three massive mountains. Towering structures stood at the six points on the wall: four in the corners and two at the gate. A large cathedral-like building sat in the middle back of courtyard, which was the place where the walls originated from. Large stained windows dotted the building at regular intervals, and two large rooms jutted off from the even bigger grand hall. Atop the towering roof, a detailed statue of a crucifix stood, looking over the expansive fortress.

The fortress was hidden from the rest of the world, staying secluded in the thick forests and large mountains that surrounded it. It was hidden with a purpose, although it wasn't a strategical or war-related purpose. It was there for a spiritual purpose, for its inhabitants were religiously minded, thinking that the only reason anything happened-good or bad-was because of their God. Their God was one that was without form. One that was without limitations. One that was omnipotent. It was one that rewarded the followers with riches, land, and power, and it was one that punished the heretics with blood, loss, or even death. Regardless of how well off they were in their concealed fortress, they could not keep away from the war that raged between the three factions, for they sought out the blood of the heretics. They sought out imperialism, as they needed a way to expand their beliefs and "convert" others to join them. Of course, when others saw through their words and lies, the only solution was the sweet crimson liquid. However, these religious fanatics weren't the leaders they claimed to be. They followed someone else. Someone more powerful than them. They followed the one who took the spiritual being named as the destroyer. They followed Abaddon, though this entity was more commonly referred to as Apollyon. These religious warriors were Apollyon's elite. They were the wolves that the great warlord spoke of. They were named as the Black Priors.

The Black Priors fought alongside the Knights, though they hardly heard to the same chivalric oaths that the others do. Being seen as rogues that could do whatever they wished without the thought of being punished, the Knights despised the Priors, yet they could do nothing against them, for Apollyon herself approved of their behavior. Of course, none were willing to go against the Blackstone Legion's warlord. Being without rules or law, the Black Priors were ruthless killers, destroying all that would not yield to their warlord or their religion. These Black Priors conquered the regions of Ashfeld under the banner of the Blackstone Legion, and they did so joyously, for this war acted as a vessel for their religious beliefs. Yet, this motivation that was the furthering this religion wasn't completely consistent throughout the order of the Black Prior. Some did these deeds for god, others for gold. Still, there were no qualms within those who did it out of greed. They saw what happened, and they gladly looked the other way. After all, why should they take heed to these things? They gain from it, so what reason would there be to destroy something so profitable?

The large, echoey chamber that was the grand hall was expansive. Ornate architecture filled the walls as scenes from their religion were engraved into the cold stone. Gold crucifixes were plastered seamlessly onto the marble columns that stood at regular intervals down the ruby red carpeted walkway that led to a medium-sized raised platform. A white as snow marble table stood atop this platform, a deep purple cloth covering the top. Atop this marble tabletop, a thick book sat, being looked down upon by a torch that had spent almost all its life here in this room. Large stained windows depicting different rulers and leaders of the Black Priors let minimal moonlight through their darkened glass. Large wooden doors were dotted occasionally across each of the two walls, leading to the East and West wings respectively. Aisles of wooden chairs lined the room, as there were about two dozen rows of these seemingly uncomfortable seats. There room was empty of all movement, save for the dancing of the flames that belonged to the torches.

Seemingly ancient wooden floorboards creaked under the heavy weight of the armored woman, her black steel armor weighing down upon the aging wood. She walked along these surfaces with her eyes looking at the floor, mind racing with thoughts, and heart beating in a supersonic pace. Without removing her eyes from the old wood, she paced down the long walkway between the two larger aisles within the large cathedral. Candles casted their soft glow onto the woman's armor, though it was just reflected from the metallic substance and against the rest of the relatively dim room. Being the only source of light save for the large glass windows that allowed sunlight in, these candles rested above the people inside the grand hall, sitting atop tall wooden poles that insisted that the light be spread throughout the darkness.

Thoughts and doubts raced around through the woman's mind. Was she truly going to follow through with this? She had been doing nothing but training for this moment, so why should she doubt herself now? She knew that she was good enough, though perhaps it what just the pressure and stress getting to her head. Hell, she felt like her hair was turning grey just by the sheer mental strain. The woman pressed her eyelids together and pursed her lips. She imagined the reality in which she didn't follow through. It would be years wasted. All those sleepless nights, tiresome mornings, and painful days thrown away. At least if she followed what she believed she wanted, she would be able to say that she had done something with her life. If she didn't go through with it, she couldn't say that she tried, and that was something that she couldn't imagine saying.

Opening her dark brown eyes, the woman continued walking, stopping short of the marble altar. Her voice quivering, she couldn't do anything except whisper the few words that she could muster up:

" _Forgive me."_

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _ **This is from an old story that I'd started on the side for fun. I never ended up finishing it, but I did enjoy this scene that I'd written, so I thought I'd upload it, as I haven't uploaded in a long, long time. Sorry for the blocks of words that are not easy to read. I couldn't find any good places to start new paragraphs.**_


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